


Midsommar

by eledhwenlin



Category: Scandinavia and the World
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/pseuds/eledhwenlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midsommar is like Christmas. Almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midsommar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oneiriad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneiriad/gifts).



> I want to thank my beta readers C and S. You are both rockstars. <3
> 
> I hope this has all the adorableness you wished for.
> 
> All remaining errors are my own.

Midsommar is Sweden's favourite time of the year. He looks forward to celebrating it with his friends. He thinks of it as the most important event in summer, the highlight of the warm season. Midsommar means family and friends and well-loved traditions and food. He tries to explain it to America: "It's like Christmas in summer!"

America blinks at him and says: "But I thought that was the Australians? I wanted a White Christmas!"

Sweden sighs and resists the urge to bang his head against the wall. "It's June," he says calmly. Maybe if he says it slowly in small words, America will understand. "Midsommar is _like_ Christmas. Christmas is in December."

America scratches his head. "But why do you celebrate Christ's birth in June?"

Sweden decides that sometimes it is better to give up before frustration drives you to violence. "Just come to the party," he says. "Please bring a dish or some beverages."

America looks suspicious. "Are you all going to eat weird food again?" His eye twitches. Sweden thinks that America will never quite recover from the shock of traditional Scandinavian Easter dishes. The mämmi was quite a shock, although Finland said--or rather, knife-signed--that it was perfectly fine to eat. (Sweden felt pressured to have some, since he was the host, and he has to admit it was actually good, as long as you didn't look at what you were eating.)

"No," Sweden says. "We're going to have the first fresh potatoes of the year and--"

"But you can get potatoes all year round," America interrupts.

"Yes, yes, but these are the fresh harvest, you see. From this spring."

"But they can be harvested all year long."

Sweden doesn't know why he volunteered to invite America. He must not have been right in the head. "Anyway, new potatoes, some herrings, sour cream, cheese, and I'm not quite sure what everyone else will bring."

America lights up. "I'll bring some burgers and we'll have a real barbecue!"

Sweden automatically adds _fire extinguisher_ to the shopping list for the party. "As you wish."

He hurries away after that. Åland has promised to pluck some strawberries, fresh from their garden, and he looks forward to sharing them after dinner.

Åland lets Sweden into the house with a smile. "Finland has gone fishing," he says. "He probably won't be back until late."

Sweden grins. "So we should make the most of it." He leans forward and kisses Åland. He tastes like sugar and strawberries. "I see you've eaten some," he says. Åland chuckles against Sweden's cheek. "I had to make sure they were all right, you know," he says. Sweden laughs. He hugs Åland tight, waltzes him through the room. The sun shines, tomorrow he'll go to a nice party with all his friends and tonight he is going to spend with the one he loves most.

Åland is warm and solid in Sweden's arms. They stumble to Åland's room, both giggling as they try not to crash into furniture and walls. Their kisses are more hit and miss than dead-on, but Sweden is too happy to mind.

Åland pushes Sweden on the bed before turning around and locking the door. "I don't want us to get interrupted." He toes his shoes off while walking to the bed. Sweden pushes his shoes off roughly (he'll curse and cry tomorrow morning when he can't get the knots out, but he so does not care right now) to get his pants off. Åland laughs at him and stops him.

"Don't be so impatient," he chides Sweden gently. "We have all night." It sounds both like a promise and a threat. Sweden leans up to pull Åland down on him. His skin is soft and pale, freckles spread across his nose and arms. Sweden thinks there is no one more beautiful.

They kiss lazily, without hurry. Whenever Sweden tries to move faster, Åland deliberately slows them down again. "Relax," he whispers against Sweden's jaw, from where he is biting and worrying Sweden's earlobe. "Just be here with me, okay?"

Sweden sighs. "I am here," he replies. "But I missed you so much today." The smile Åland gives him is positively blinding and for a moment Sweden forgets how to breathe. "Hey," Åland says. "I know. I want to take my time with you, though."

Sweden pulls Åland close enough to kiss him firmly. "I'm totally okay with making out," he says.

By the time Åland has enough of kissing and petting, his light touches and the way his legs keeps brushing against Sweden's erection have driven Sweden around the bend.

"Åland," he whispers. "I want--" Åland kisses Sweden deeply. "I know."

Åland carefully pushes his hands underneath Sweden's shirt, pushes it up slowly. He kisses every exposed inch of skin until Sweden is squirming underneath his hands. "Impatient, aren't you?" Åland laughs at him.

Sweden pulls at Åland's shirt and he is much faster in getting it off than Åland was taking Sweden's shirt off. Åland is still laughing at him, and Sweden uses the opportunity to flip them over. Åland's laughter ends with a deep breath and he smiles up at Sweden. "Hey."

"Hey," Sweden replies and his voice is raspy, his throat dry. He feels dizzy with desire and his heart is beating fast, and they haven't even taken their pants off yet. Åland pulls Sweden in for another lazy kiss, but this time his hands wander down and suddenly Sweden's pants are gone. He takes a second to admire Åland for being able to multi-task, but then he is very busy with taking Åland's pants off.

Finally, finally, they're both naked and Sweden wants to touch Åland everywhere, he almost can't decide where to start.

Thankfully Åland is much more together than Sweden. He wraps his legs around Sweden's waist, eliciting a soft sigh from Sweden when their erections brush against each other.

"Top drawer, night table," Åland pants against Sweden's jaw. Sweden finds a new bottle of lube and an opened box of condoms. He drops the bottle and one condom wrapper on the bed.

The lube feels cold on Sweden's fingers, but he rubs them together to warm it up. He wants to make this as pleasant for Åland as he can. "Relax," Sweden says, and he presses a kiss against Åland's mouth, one finger pushing in slowly. Åland tenses shortly, but then he relaxes, lets Sweden in. "Oh," he breathes, hot air puffing against Sweden's cheek.

Åland is hot and tight around Sweden's finger, and it is the most intense thing Sweden has felt in days. "You're amazing," he tells Åland.

"No more than you are," Åland replies. His voice gets high and breathy, and Sweden is fascinated that he did this. He adds another finger, carefully stretching Åland.

Åland sighs and squirms, pushing harder against Sweden's fingers. Sweden feels absolutely wrecked. It would be very embarrassing if he came now.

When Sweden pushes in three fingers, Åland groans. "Come on," he says. "I'm good."

Sweden kisses him deeply. "I see, wait and hurry up," he says. "But this time you have to trust me."

By the time Sweden thinks Åland is actually ready, Åland makes the most delicious noises, groaning low and whining high. "Please," he begs. "Please, please, please."

Sweden puts on the condom with shaking hands. His fingers feel clumsy and thick, too stupid to handle the condom. Åland helps out, although his hands are shaking just as much.

Finally, though, Sweden positions himself and he pushes in carefully. "God," he whimpers. "Åland."

Åland feels incredibly tight still, and he squeezes down on Sweden's cock without rhythm, his thighs trembling where they are set high on Sweden's waist.

Sweden manages to get a regular rhythm going, but he can tell he won't last. He is much too pent up and Åland's skin is hot and sweaty under Sweden's hands. Sweden loves how Åland opens himself up entirely to Sweden without hesitation.

Sweden worms one hand between their bodies, wraps it around Åland's cock. "Fuck," Åland whimpers. He holds on to Sweden's shoulders for dear life, his legs tightening around Sweden's waist. "So close," he says, and Sweden joins his groan.

"Sweden, I--" Åland stiffens, his fingers digging in deep into Sweden's muscles. He comes hotly across Sweden's hand, his stomach and pretty much everywhere.

"God, Åland," Sweden whimpers. He follows suit after, jerking roughly into Åland, his entire body seizing up.

Afterwards Sweden slumps down on Åland, heedless of his weight, spent and tired and happy. He litters kisses on every bit of skin he can reach. Åland slowly sweeps his hands across Sweden's back.

"Wow," Åland says, and Sweden can only concur. "Still think you're amazing," he whispers, and he can hear the quiet rumble of Åland's laugh. "If you say so."

Sweden thinks he is being humoured. He wants to say something, but then he has to yawn. Åland carefully pushes him off. Sweden sighs when he slips out, still sensitive, but sorry for the loss, too. There is hardly anything else as intimate as this.

Sweden disposes of the condom and Åland manages to clean up a little bit. Together they slip underneath the covers. "Dinner?" Sweden murmurs.

"Later," Åland replies. "Nap first."

***

A loud crashing sound wakes Sweden up. His heart is beating fast and he thinks _is someone trying to break in?_ and _that's the loudest and most obvious burglar ever_. Then someone knocks on Åland's door, rapid and hard. Åland sighs and cuddles closer against Sweden. "Finland, go 'way," he mumbles. "'M asleep."

Sweden sinks down into the cushions and sighs loudly. "I should have figured," he says to himself. "Only Finland would come stumbling through like a drunken reindeer on Christmas day."

Åland giggles against Sweden's shoulder. "Go back to sleep," he says. Sweden does.

***

In the morning Sweden gets up early. He has always been an early riser and the sun that is currently not setting at all fills him with energy. He decides to make breakfast for Åland.

The coffee is still running through and Sweden has just finished cutting the fruit for the muesli, when he hears the light tap-tap of someone coming down the stairs. He waits until that someone steps into the kitchen. "The coffee isn't quite done yet," he says. "Here, have some orange juice. Did you sleep well, baby?"

Sweden turns around, holding the full glass of orange juice, to give it to Åland and maybe steal a good morning kiss before Finland interrupts them, but then he catches sight of an unruly mop of hair hidden underneath a hideous cap and shrieks. His hands fly up, as Sweden backs away quickly. Finland grunts as the cold orange juice hits him, and the glass falls down and breaks with a crash. Sweden's hugging his chest, huffing. "What are you doing here?"

Finland glares. "Well, you knew I was sleeping over!" Sweden says. "And since when does Åland get up early and make breakfast for you?"

Åland comes tumbling down the stairs, out of breath. "What's happening? I heard you scream and I was worried that--oh, it's you, Finland."

Finland gestures at Åland, then at Sweden, and he turns his glare up to eleven. Åland snorts. "It's not like you care all that much. Now do you mind?" He points to the living room. "I'd like a moment alone with Sweden."

Finland leaves, glaring daggers at Sweden, who sighs quietly. "I wanted to surprise you," he says sadly. "And now I've got to clean this up."

Åland leans over and presses a kiss against Sweden's temple. "I'm happily surprised." He smiles. "And Finland's going to mope in the living room all day long."

Åland helps Sweden to wipe up the orange juice and he quietly chides him when he wants to pick up the shards. "Let's sweep them up," he says, "before you cut yourself."

Sweden prepares the muesli, while Åland fishes out all the cold cuts from his fridge. They have breakfast quietly and peacefully. Finland steals a cup of coffee and sits down at their table, carefully watching them both, but Sweden is becoming better at ignoring him. Besides, it is difficult to notice anything else when Åland smiles at him like that.

"I'll see you tonight?" he asks Åland later, when he has to go and prepare his food for the party tonight. Åland laughs at him. "Of course."

Sweden goes home with butterflies fluttering in his belly. He wishes it were already evening.

***

Norway may be a little bit nervous. Only a little bit. If he doesn't sit down soon, Sweden thinks, I'm gonna kill him.

"Do you think it's okay?" Norway glances at the straw witch. "Or is it too much?"

"I am not in a habit of burning witches," Sweden replies primly. "Neither am I," says Norway. "Nor Denmark. It's just this symbol. It can't be wrong." Norway bites his lip and Sweden is officially the only sane person around.

"Norway," he says slowly, "you and Denmark share the traditional bonfire. You know more about this than I do." Sweden points to the maypole which he fought hard for. It's the same old argument every damn year, Norway always pointing out that he could use the nice birch wood for his bonfire and Sweden stubbornly defending his own traditions. He worked hard to decorate the maypole properly, and the little banners are fluttering in the wind, and Sweden's heart grows warm. He insisted that Norway put his stupid bonfire on the other side of the garden. He wouldn't put it past Norway to take that maypole and burn it, too, so he could have a huge fire to impress Denmark with.

Fortunately, the doorbell rings in that moment. "The first of our guests have arrived!" Norway exclaims happily. Sweden swears, if Norway doesn't manage to get into Denmark's pants after this, he'll never ever help him out with anything again.

Predictably it is Denmark. He is out of breath and clutches his dish to his breast. "There was a butterfly!" he exclaims. Sweden snickers quietly, as Norway immediately hugs Denmark. "You know they can't hurt you," Norway says gently.

"But it was so big! And fluttery!" Denmark shudders. "I think I need a beer."

Sweden mutters, "that might actually help Norway along," but pretends to be coughing when Norway squints at him.

The downside of Norway being busy with Denmark now is that Sweden suddenly realises that he has prepared everything and all he can do is wait for their guests. He wishes Åland were already here.

Slowly all their guests stream in. Sister Sweden drops by to give Sweden a hug. "Dearest brother! How are you doing? Where were you last night? You didn't come home, and I was worried."

"Quiet," Sweden hisses. His sister only has one volume, loud. "Inside voice, inside voice."

Sister Sweden laughs. "Don't be like that," she says. "I hear Finland's coming with Åland?"

"Yes," Sweden replies, drawing the vowel out long. He doesn't really want to know why she asked.

"Good, good," she coos.

Sweden is still contemplating whether he should investigate more and possibly learn things about his sister's sex life that he'd rather not know or whether he should try to ignore it instead, when Åland and Finland arrive. Åland beams at Sweden, and that ends up being very distracting, so Sweden only realises his sister is gone when he sees her grabbing Finland's arm and dragging him to the buffet.

"I was waiting for you!" she says, and Finland looks as smitten as he ever does. But then Åland stands right in front of Sweden. "Hey," he says. "I saw the maypole."

Sweden smiles at him. "I tried my best," he says, "Norway had a bit of a problem understanding how the maypole works."

"It's beautiful," Åland says. Sweden is pretty sure he is beaming like an idiot, but Åland takes his hand. "I think Denmark wants to light the bonfire soon. We should get outside."

There is an empty space left where they can spread a blanket out. Denmark stands close to the bonfire, which is quite a feat, seeing that Norway is holding a lit torch, ready to light the huge pile of wood. "Want to share the honours?" Norway asks Denmark. Åland hides his grin in Sweden's neck. "They're precious," he says. Sweden nods. There is a round of aww going around as Denmark gingerly puts his hand on the torch. Norway smiles hugely as he puts the torch to the food.

The bonfire lighting up is quite impressive and Sweden instinctively reaches for Åland's hand. They sit there watching the fire until Åland's stomach rumbles. "Sorry," he laughs.

"Well, I have prepared food," Sweden says. "So let's eat," Åland replies. He oohs and aahs at the fresh potatoes and the herrings. He puts out some cheese and bread.

They are mostly left alone, everyone smiling at them kindly. Sweden is glad that nobody tries to engage them in conversation because he only wants to spend time with Åland.

"I've got one thing left," Åland says and he's--blushing. He carefully puts the bowl of cut strawberries between them, sets a bowl full of whipped cream next to it.

"These look wonderful," Sweden says. Åland takes a strawberry, dips in the cream and offers it to Sweden. Oh. Sweden feels his cheeks grow hot, but he opens his mouth and lets Åland push the strawberry into his mouth. "And delicious, too," he mumbles, eyes not leaving Åland's face. Åland's face is still flushed, but he grins openly. "That's good," he says. His grin turns utterly mischievous. "I have more of those at home," he says. "Whipped cream, too."

Sweden laughs and wraps his arms around Åland. He is surrounded by his friends and family, those he loves most, and he feels genuinely happy.

It is Midsommar and Sweden wishes this day would never end. "I love you," he whispers into Åland's ear. "I know. I love you, too," Åland replies, just as quietly.

Midsommar is indeed Sweden's favourite time of the year.


End file.
